


A Twist in a Rock

by Rosage



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Nadia route endgame, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 13:30:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19888621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosage/pseuds/Rosage
Summary: In the masquerade’s aftermath, Muriel deals with kissing his best friend.





	A Twist in a Rock

Muriel covers his mouth as he hurries through the halls. His face burns along with the palace, but he can't think about that, not with Asra traversing dangerous realms. Muriel shouldn't have lost track of him, shouldn't have gotten so distracted by everyone watching them, seeing...

No. Not now. Asra's unconscious body is vulnerable. Even though he rounded up the demons, the crowds seem to be full of them. They always are. The lingering stench of smoke enhances the effect, almost making Muriel choke as he slides along the wall.

He makes it to the fountain, where Asra rests against the lip. Muriel kneels beside him, his heart stopping when he sees Asra's closed eyes and parted mouth. He brushes Asra’s pulse with his knuckles. The beat relaxes him.

Asra's eyes open, blinking up at him. Before Muriel can react, Asra throws his arms around him, unable to reach all the way. His nose presses against Muriel's chest as his skirt swishes around Muriel's legs.

From their first meeting, Muriel has wanted to hold him. Encircle him, comfort him, keep him safe. Their seventeen years have only intensified the need.

His arms hang at his side like logs, certain to crush Asra's ball gown if he moves. Asra loosens his grip and looks up at Muriel with concern, his voice almost imperceptible over the distant shouts. "Sorry, I thought..."

He pulls away. Muriel wants to sink into the ground. Instead, he studies Asra. "You're safe."

Even with his gauze and slicked hair, Asra's smile is the one that makes Muriel's heart never know whether to settle or stutter. "I am. But I have to find Nadi. I'm the only one who can send them to the Devil’s realm." He holds out a hand, and Muriel hangs on for dear life as they plunge into the crowds.

* * *

After Asra sends the others through the fountain, they both stay and watch over the bodies. Even in the gardens, masquerade decorations clutter the evening with unnatural, multicolored lights. Voices filter through the bushes. Otherwise, they keep a quiet vigil, with Muriel too aware of their breathing. Asra's flutters when he reaches for Muriel's hand, which stiffens until Asra lets go.

There's just enough space between the distant shrieks to recall Asra's lips on his, soft and full of a hope Muriel could have gotten drunk off of. He’s already hung over. Everything is the bitter, pounding regret Asra must be feeling.

Muriel focuses on Nadia's unconscious form, which he shields from view in case anyone stumbles in. Worry for her clouds his more foolish concerns. He can't look at her partner.

Finally, they both stir, and Asra lurches forward. Their expressions announce their victory. Asra gives a round of hugs, making Muriel feel a twinge at how easily the others return them. But Asra's cheek creases in a dimple, and Muriel's own lips curve up. He lumbers after the group as they pass along the good news.

_It's over._ He can't quite relax, but everyone is safe. Asra is safe. Muriel wants to thank Nadia, who gets surrounded by too many people for him to work up the nerve.

She breaks away instead, approaching with a smile he's unused to. "I cannot thank you both enough for your aid. Will you be staying at the palace tonight?"

"No," Muriel says, at the same time Asra says _yes_. He flicks his eyes toward Muriel.

"I guess not," Asra says. "Unless you need us for something, Nadi?"

"No, you have earned a break. Just know you're always welcome." Her gaze shifts from Asra to Muriel, who can only nod.

_Thanks, thanks, thanks,_ he thinks, like he can will the thought to escape. She smiles as if she hears.

* * *

Asra changes into his regular clothes before leaving the palace. Without talking, they navigate the masquerade, as stalls and revelers sprawl across the city. Muriel sticks to Asra like his shadow, unsure where they’re going until they arrive at the magic shop.

_Oh._ He wasn't supposed to follow Asra. He stands rooted to the spot while Asra undoes the protective spell on the door. "Come on," Asra says as he enters.

Muriel stares after him. Asra pokes his head out with a frown. "You coming?"

Confusion still makes Muriel's head pound, but the festivities make it pound more, so he stoops and enters. He tries and fails to make himself small. Asra shrugs off his coat and stretches on his way to the stairs, then turns back again. "What's wrong?"

"What am I supposed to do?"

"We don't have to do anything else tonight. I was just going to crash, unless you're hungry."

His words clearly make sense to him, but to Muriel it's like watching a river flow backward. "Don't you want me to… leave."

"No, why would I?"

Asra has a way of twisting a world that seems as consistent as a rock to Muriel. "Because. I don't belong here."

"Don't be silly. They said we could stay. They have a whole palace now, you know."

Muriel must have missed that conversation. The night's already blending in his head: towering flames, screaming crowds, Asra's lips…

Muriel shuts down. He follows Asra up the stairs, unsure what else to do with his legs, or any other part of him. At the top, he stands in the stairway, afraid to step on the clothes and spell components spilling between the bed and kitchenette. He names the plants in the windowsill to ground himself.

"Yeah, the griffonsage has really grown since you were last—wait, when were you last here?" Asra asks.

Muriel didn’t mean to recite out loud. "Never."

Asra's eyebrows shoot into his bangs. "You've never been up here?"

"You've never invited me."

Asra's face twists in pain, and Muriel wants to take it back, even though it's true.

"I didn't know. I mean, I should've. I'm sorry, Muriel. You were always welcome."

"Stop." Muriel rubs his temple. Even in here, everything is so fuzzy. So much. The buzzing magic doesn't help, with Asra's familiar spells alongside another's unpredictable aura.

"Well, we're here now. Make yourself at home. Sorry about the mess, there hasn't been a chance to clean."

Not that Asra would have. When he lived with Muriel, the hut was messy even though Muriel owned little. It's emptier now, other than the bear figurine Asra gave him and the furs he kept in case Asra came back, needing the warmth. Muriel nursed hope it would happen. He never expected to wind up here instead. 

Asra directs him to sit. Books and potted plants clutter the chairs. He perches on the bed, the last place he wants to be, but the one most likely to bear his weight. Asra plops down next to him, spiking his heart rate. They used to share a bed, until Muriel grew so large and full of heartache that he used the floor, letting Inanna take his place. Even after Asra left, Muriel would lie on the floor like some kind of bear rug and wish for sounds of sleep.

When Asra leans toward him, Muriel jerks back. Hurt flickers on Asra’s face in the low light.

"Muriel, can I ask... I mean, we don't have to talk about it yet, but you've been pulling away from me ever since we kissed."

Muriel's ears flare. He hadn't even let himself think the word.

"It's okay if you didn't like it," Asra says. "I just want to know. I mean, I liked it. I just—"

"That's not. I didn't not. I've never…" Muriel feels stupider with each word, but he's like a river blocked by a mountain at every turn.

His meaning reaches Asra anyway. "Oh, that was your first kiss, huh?"

It sounds foolish out loud, but Muriel never expected to kiss someone. He's tried not to let anyone even see him. Anyone except Asra.

Asra, who moved ahead without him, in this place Muriel's never been. Asra, who came back for him, who invited him in, just like the day they met.

"We can start small, then, get used to things," Asra continues. "I don't want to go too fast and make you uncomfortable, okay?"

Muriel doesn't know how to say that he's always uncomfortable, that all of this is big. "Okay."

"Can we start here?" His fingers brush Muriel's knuckles, his skin soft against the scars and calluses. Sweat pools in Muriel's palm.

"Sure."

Asra takes his hand carefully. Even more carefully, afraid of breaking him, Muriel curls his fingers. How is he supposed to know if he's doing this right?

"That's not so bad, is it?" Asra asks, with a hint of teasing that makes Muriel scowl.

"It's sticky."

Asra laughs. "Love's pretty sticky."

Muriel freezes. 

"Oh. Sorry, I guess that's the definition of _too fast_." Asra sighs and runs his free hand through his hair. "I mean, obviously we don't have to figure this out tonight, we just saved the world and all. It's just that even though this is new, it's also kind of not? We've known each other for so long, and I know I get distracted sometimes, but I swear I—"

Maybe it's because he's been relying on Asra to guide him, but watching Asra unravel compels Muriel to act, to keep them together. He bends down until their mouths are an inch apart, cutting off Asra’s rambling. When Asra doesn’t flinch, Muriel presses them together more sloppily than before, his nose jabbing Asra's cheek. Asra's lips part with a sigh. Muriel is bathed in warmth, like he's covered in blood. That image has him lifting slightly, afraid to move far enough to let Asra see him.

"Wow. And here I was going to try a few other things first," Asra says.

"What other things." Muriel can't begin to think of what's supposed to come next.

"Oh, you know," Asra says, his tone a shade of teasing Muriel's never heard. His finger rises to twirl in Muriel's hair, and his breath sets Muriel's neck on fire. "I had your hand, so I was going to ask to kiss the knuckles, and the palm. And if you liked that, I'd move to your cheek—"

The room seems to do a somersault. "Stop."

Immediately, Asra pulls back. "Okay. We can just—"

"Keep going."

Asra blinks at him, then laughs. Muriel's jaw hurts. "What do you want me to do, then?" Asra asks.

"Anything. I mean, nothing. I mean..."

Asra headbutts his shoulder. "Let's just lean together for a bit? Breathe?"

Muriel can't remember the meaning of the word. "Sure."

Asra's hair feels softer than moss against his bicep. He focuses on Asra's breaths, on the way his chest expands and contracts, like Muriel's own lungs will get the picture.

Asra is alive. Just as that starts to make Muriel's shoulders lower, Asra speaks.

"So, how long have you...?"

He tenses again. He doesn't want to talk about how foolish he became when they started growing. He doesn't want to answer questions from anybody, let alone Asra, who already knows everything Muriel wants him to.

_How long_? It's not like Muriel remembers much from before that day at the docks, when someone invited him in for the first time.

"Forever."

"Muriel," Asra breathes. The shock in his voice makes Muriel wince. He doesn't need Asra to pity him, to apologize again for nothing. "I... Thank you."

"For what?"

"For caring, even when no one else did."

Asra's cheek brushes against Muriel’s arm as he smiles up at him. It's the same smile that saved him, even if he hasn't seen Asra this happy in a while, and Muriel's heart decides to settle.


End file.
